


Going to Hell

by HesElectric



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Death, Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt Stiles, M/M, POV Stiles, Season/Series 03, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Stiles-centric, really slow build, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HesElectric/pseuds/HesElectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting from Season 3, but from Stiles' point of view. How he felt during possession. Eventual Sterek!!! It's going to be pretty canon for a few chapters until suddenly BAM! </p><p>Stiles is having nightmares of the Nemeton. He feels something inside him. Something evil. The only comfort he feels is from the brooding werewolf who changed their lives. </p><p>When is a door not a door?</p><p>Everyone has it, but no one can lose it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping to get a chapter out each week, just depends on assignments and stuff at uni. I'd love to have a beta if someone is interested?

"No, no," Stiles said as he tossed in his bed. "Don't let them in, don't let them in, don't let them in!"

His eyes shot open revealing he wasn't actually in bed, but trapped inside a locker at the school. His breath hitched in his throat as he shoved open the steel door. It was night time, dim moon lighting shining through the windows. Empty and cold. He walked through the corridor reaching an open door. The Nemeton.

'What on earth is this thing doing here?' he thought to himself. The moss covered stump began to vibrate as he reached towards it. Stiles knew he should stop reaching for it, that he should run. Hell, he should probably be questioning why he woke up inside of his gym locker. But he couldn't. It was like he was in a trance. A trance remaining unbroken until vines ripped from the exposed wood and wrapped around Stiles' wrist.

Stiles sat bolt right in his bed once again with a gasp of breath.

"You okay?" asked a strange, deep voice. "Stiles?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, taking comfort in Derek's hand on his lower back. "I was just dreaming. It was weird, it was like a dream within a dream."

"A nightmare?" Derek asked.

"Yeah," Stiles sighed, enjoying the warm hand rubbing circles into his back. He took hold of Derek's hand, rubbing circles with his thumb. "Wait a sec. Derek? What are you doing here?" His door creaked open. "Hold on."

"Stiles, where are you going?"

"I'm just going to close the door."

"Just go back to sleep," Derek asked pulling gently on Stiles' arm.

"No, no, I should close it."

"Don't worry about it."

"What if someone comes in?" Stiles said as he pulls away, not able to tear his eyes away from the door. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut.

"Like who?" Derek asked. "Just go back to sleep, Stiles."

"No," he whispered. "What if they get in?"

"What if who gets in? Stiles, just leave it, please" Derek said with a very much out of character amount of panic in his voice. "Stiles, please. Just come back to bed!"

Stiles couldn't though. He needed to shut the door. He had to protect Derek. It was his job to keep Derek alive, it had been this whole time, since the very first time they met. Slowly his feet carried him towards the door. It should have just been moments that he walked, but it felt like hours.

"Don't go in there, Stiles," Derek begged. "Please Stiles, don't. Stiles!"

Stiles could hear his heart beating in his chest, and he felt it in his throat as he slowly reached for the doorhandle. He pulled the door open, and instead of the second floor of his home, he found himself back in the woods standing in front of the Nemeton. Dozens of bright, hot lights glared at him.

"It's a dream, This is just a dream, it's just a dream, get it out of your head Stiles," Stiles repeated to himself, slapping his hands against his head. Though he was truly terrified, absolutely terrified, he felt ever so slightly relieved knowing this wasn't real. It was a stupid part of his subconscious playing tricks on him. "You're dreaming. Alright? So, wake up, Stiles. Wake up, Stiles."

He couldn't wake himself up. Terror began to consume him. His heart raced.

"WAKE UP!" He screamed with all his might.

"Time to get up, kiddo," his father said, poking his head into Stiles' room. "Get your butt to school."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And you couldn't wake up?" Scott asked Stiles as they walked up the stone stairs leading to the school courtyard.

"Nope," Stiles said. "And it was beyond terrifying. Have you ever heard of sleep paralysis?"

"Uh, no, do I want to?"

"Have you ever had a dream where you feel like you're about to wake up but you can't move or talk?" Stiles asked and waited for Scott to nod. "It happens because during REM sleep, your body is basically paralysed. It's called _muscle atonia._ That way if you start dreaming about running you don't actually start running in your bed."

"That makes sense," Scott said, nodding his head, trying to convince Stiles he understood. Stiles knew he didn't but he just needed to talk about what was happening.

"But sometimes your mind wakes up before your body does," Stiles continues. "So for this split second your aware that you're paralysed. And that's the terrifying part. It turns your dream into a nightmare. You can feel like you're falling, like you're being strangled, or, in my case, like you're at the centre of a grove of magical trees where human sacrifices took place. You think it means something? What if what we did that night What if it's still affecting us?"

"Post traumatic stress?" Scott asked.

"Or something. But you want to know what scares me the most? I'm not even sure if this is real."

Stiles started screaming, whimpering, clutching at his chest and the blankets around him. Arms gripped him tightly around his chest from behind.

"It's okay, buddy, it's okay. You're okay," his father repeated as he rocked his son back and forth. Papa Stilinski felt tears forming in his eyes. He hated seeing his son like this, each night, waking them both up screaming. Once Stiles had calmed down enough he spread his hands out in front of him, counting each individual finger. Eight and two thumbs. He was awake. He was no longer dreaming.

"I'm okay," he reassured his father, but his voice was entirely unconvincing. "I'm okay."

Later that morning Stiles was packing his bag for the day. He picked up his history textbook and glanced at the title. _Dalesi Xis Anla: Dol Wtari Awnd Rhie Wuttrnrrienla Saotrgle Fgo Tpone._

'What the hell?' Stiles thought to himself, straining his eyes to make sense of the jumbled letters. He wondered briefly if this was some kind of misprint.

"Hey kiddo," Tom Stilinski interrupted Stiles' train of thought, causing him to forget about the book. "You alright? Ready for school?"

"Yeah," Stiles stammered nodding his head. When he looked back at the book the words were fine. "Yeah, I'm good." Tom looked at Stiles questioningly, unable to believe him. "Dad, seriously. I'm fine, it was just a nightmare. What's that?"

"Oh, just. uh, files from the office," Tom said indicating the box in his hands.

"Says 'sheriff's station, do not remove'," Stiles pointed.

"Yeah, well, unless you're the sheriff. Now get your butt to school, alright?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles pulled up to school in his jeep where he saw Scott glaring at his bike helmet. His best friend shook his head rapidly before glaring into the visor once again.

'What the hell is he doing?' Stiles thought to himself. He climbed out of his jeep, slinging his school bag over his shoulders and walking after his friend. Scott was behaving erratically, every few steps he would look behind him at the ground before hastening his step. To Stiles it looked like he was afraid of his own shadow.

'Why is he running from his own shadow? ... Unless?' Stiles wondered if his best friend was suffering the same as he was, with his own punishment for surrogate sacrifice being hallucinations rather than horrific nightmares. Stiles jogged up to Scott and grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, hey. You alright?" Stiles asked and Scott nodded. "You don't look alright, Scott."

"I'm okay," Scott assured. Stiles didn't need no superhuman werewolf hearing to know Scott was lying.

"No you're not," Stiles said. "It's happening to you, too. You're seeing things, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" Scott asked with wide eyes, like a great secret had been revealed.

"Because it's happening to all three of you," came a very familiar voice. The boys turned around and saw Allison and Lydia standing behind them. They continued walking into the building with each sharing their experience.

"Well, well," Lydia said pushing open the large wooden doors. "Look who's no longer the crazy one."

"We're not crazy," Allison said.

"Hallucinating," Lydia said looking at Allison and Scott, then looked at Stiles. "Sleep paralysis. Yeah, you guys are fine."

"Well we did die and come back to life, it's got to have some side effects, right?" Scott asked as the bell rang. We keep an eye on each other, okay? And Lydia? Stop enjoying this so much."

"What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In history Stiles found himself continually counting his fingers, needing constant reassurance that he's awake. His eyelids felt heavy, the skin under his eyes feeling the effects of gravity. The new history teacher walked in with an air of confidence.

"Good morning, everyone," the teacher greeted his class with a smile. "My name is Mr Yukimura, and I'll be taking over from your previous history teacher. A little about me; my family and I moved here around three weeks ago. By now I'm sure you all know my daughter, Kira. Or you might not since she's never mentioned anyone from school. Or brought a friend home for that matter. Either way, there she is."

Yukimura indicated to the quiet girl sitting in the back, who's head thumped heavily against her desk at the unwanted attention.

Stiles turned around with minimal interest, though he could swear he felt something in his mind reach towards the girl. He looked around at his fellow students and saw them gawking at her.

'Way to go guys, make the new girl feel even more alienated,' he thought to himself before turning back to the teacher.

"Now, let's begin with American history at the turn of the twentieth century."

The rest of class went by smoothly, though Stiles could barely focus on the lecture. The hour was eventually up before the bell chimed.

At their lockers Stiles fiddled with the lock trying to get his code for the lock.

"Maybe," Scott started. "Maybe we just need a little more time to get back to normal."

"Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures," Stiles said still trying to get his lock. He was growing frustrated. "There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal."

Stiles pulled at his lock which remained in place. He glanced at the numbers and was frustrated to see instead they were odd symbols. He sighed frustratingly and gave up, turning to his friend who's eyes were glowing dark red.

"Dude, your eyes."

"What about them?"

"What about them? They're starting to glow," Stiles said looking around to make sure no one else noticed. "Scott, stop it. Stop it."

"I can't control it," Scott said squeezing his eyes shut.

"Alright, just keep your head down," Stiles said, throwing an arm around Scott and with a glance around to see if anyone noticed he started to lead him away. "Look down, come on. Keep your head down."

Stiles lead them into an empty classroom, and as soon as his arm was removed from Scott's shoulders Scott rushed forward pulling his jacket off.

"Get back away from me," he said with a growl.

"Scott, it's okay."

"I don't know what's going to happen to me," Scott growled between heavy breaths. "Get back!" Scott's claws started growing him his nails. He balled his fists, digging the nails into the palms of his hands. Blood started trickling down his arms. He dropped to his knees with a growl as he regained his humanity.

"Pain makes you human," Scott explained, looking up pleadingly at Stiles.

"Scott, this isn't in our heads. This is real. It's starting to get bad for me, too," Stiles said letting himself open up. "I'm not just having nightmares, I'm having these dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake. And sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how you can tell you're dreaming?" Stiles asked. "You can't read in your dreams. More and more, the last few days I've been having trouble reading. I can't see the words. I can't put the letters in order."

"Like even now?" Scott asked, worry written all over his face.

Stiles stood up to look at the blackboard.

_'Hesxprno Dilsrwev Vumis Dhlemeqjs Mgmxl Qov Hm Dalc Idftmlv- Cagqztuo Foxqera Tardw Akfbrcae? Rlbzxo AER Incwgrthb Naqblfbus Clupas Obcvgrftus Ueipexa Zmverh - Pwft.Dac Drmaf Dqe Hoke'_

Stiles looked around the walls, posters showing intangible words, books showing symbols.

"I can't read a thing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is HEAVY canon at the moment, but I need it to be to build up to where my own canon begins. I'm trying to add my own stuff where I can without breaking any necessary parts. I also suck at writing filler and write way too much dialogue sometimes. I'm sorry! haha
> 
> I'm uploading this a bit early, I know. I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked in to the Sheriff's office with a bouquet of lilies in his possession. He felt a pang of sadness. He would never admit it to anyone, but Stiles really did miss his mother. It was horrific to watch her slowly deteriorate from the energetic woman he knew from his early childhood, to someone lying weak in a hospital bed. The old saying goes that the worst pain someone can feel is a parent having to bury their child, but all the pain Stiles had gone through, all his trauma, nothing was as bad as not having his mother there for him. He knew his father tried his best to look after him, though Stiles believed it was the responsibility of both of them to look after each other, but sometimes he just wanted his mum. Especially on nights he would wake up screaming.

"You know the last time we brought one of these to her grave it was stolen on the same day?" Stiles reminded his father. "Hundred bucks down the drain. Hey dad? Hey, what're you doing down there?"

"Working," Tom said sifting through piles upon piles of paperwork. "And hey, if someone wants the flowers that badly, they can have them. It's the gesture."

Stiles ignored what his father said, both a little offended by this and distracted by the boxes of case files stacked unceremoniously around the room.

"Hey, dad, what is all this?"

"I've been looking over some old cases from, uh, a more illuminated perspective, if you know what I mean."

"' _Strange sighting of a bipedal lizard man sprinting across freeway_ '," Stiles read from a document.

"Kanima pile," Tom said slapping a stack of dishevelled papers.

"Dad, you're not going back through your old cases to see if any of them had something to do with the supernatural, are you?"

"I admit the recent opening of my eyes to the greater mysteries of the universe has got me reassessing. There are at least one hundred cases here where I can look at the details and can ask myself if I knew then what I knew now..."

"Right, but are you sure wanna go down that path?" Stiles asked, concern about his father's new found obsession. He had worried about his father and his health enough without adding more stress and guilt to the table.

"Do I have a choice?" Sheriff Stilinski asked his son with the slightest look of desperation clear on his face. He stood up with one file in his hand. "There's one case in particular that I can't get out of my head. Eight years ago I was elected county sheriff. My first official duty was to tell a man not only had his wife and two kids died in a car accident, but the best we could tell body of his nine year old daughter had been dragged from the wreck by coyotes."

"You mean dragged and eaten?"

"We didn't find the car until three days after the crash. They had driven off the road into a pretty deep ravine. Two bodies were still in the car covered in bites and slashes."

"So you're thinking bites and claw marks? Probably a werewolf attack?" Stiles asked, understanding his father's rationalising, but he himself couldn't help but think that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

"Maybe."

"But coyotes, they're scavengers, right?" Stiles asked. "So, couldn't they have just left the bites and the slashes?"

"Absolutely," Tom said handing his son the file. "But guess what night the accident occurred on."

"Night of the full moon," Stiles read out loud. Now he could further understand his father's newfound suspicion on the cold case. Suddenly Stiles own suspicion rose as he looked around at the dozens of boxed sprawled around the room. "Hey, dad, where are all these going?"

"Yeah, we, uh," Tom started looking at the label on one of the boxes stating Scott's father's name as the intended recipient. "We probably need to talk about that."

"What's going on?" Stiles asked with the slightest hint of worry in his voice.

"The DA's office is trying to take me out of the position," Tom said regretfully. "It seems my ratio of unresolved cases to resolved cases is too far out of balance. There's an inquest going on with Scott's father."

"He's trying to fire you?" Stiles asked with his eyes going wide. Anger boiled inside him, almost whistling like a readied kettle.

"Seems like it," Tom said sullenly. "But I figured, hey, as my last great act I should try and get some closure on at least one of these cases, right?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I usually sleep in the middle of the bed," Stiles said as he tossed restlessly in his bed occupied by another.

"Well not anymore," Derek said from his side of the best, curled around himself like a sleeping dog. It was cute, though it looked awkward for a bipedal human to sleep like a four legged canine. Stiles sighed as he tried to get comfortable, but no matter how much he fluffed his pillow, he couldn't quite get there.

"I know, I'm trying," Stiles replied. Derek sighed, rolled onto his back, allowing Stiles to cuddle up against his side. Stiles lay like this for a few incredible moments before he sat up. "Yep, I'm sorry, but I can't sleep unless I'm in the middle."

"Then we spoon," Derek said, annoyance dripping from his words. It was the usual tone that Stiles would associate with the threat of his throat being ripped out.

"Spoon!" Stiles said as if it were the greatest idea he had ever heard. Derek rolled his eyes and turned on his side to snake his arm around Stiles' waist. Stiles enjoyed the feeling of warm, strong arms around him to protect him from his nightmares of the Nemeton, but it wasn't long before he started fidgeting.

"What now?" Derek groaned.

"I'm still not comfortable," Stiles whined. Derek growled deep in his chest and rolled away from Stiles so their backs were against each other, both young men in the middle of the bed. Rightfully, Stiles had no more reason to complain. But of course, he did. "Well, I don't like this."

"I'm going to kill you," Derek promised. It definitely wasn't a threat.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Stiles said rolling onto his other side and wrapping his own arm around Derek this time, nuzzling the nape of the werewolf's neck with his nose. "Alright, this is good. Yeah. This is good."

Stiles was finally comfortable, feeling himself being pulled into that peaceful world of his subconscious. He truly believed he wouldn't have nightmares that night with his werewolf there to protect him. He felt Derek's fingers entwine around his hand, travelling up his forearm. It was a nice sensation to feel the rough but gentle, cool skin running up along from his hand, up his wrist, forearm and reaching his elbow.

"Wait," Stiles said opening his eyes. He knew enough about human anatomy to know that no human, werewolf or kanima had fingers that long. His eyes shot open with pure terror as vines wrapped around his arm. Derek was gone, nowhere to be seen. With a harsh yank, Stiles was pulled from his bed onto the floor of his bedroom face first. Sharp, white hot pain shot through his nose with an audible crack. A hot, wet sticky feeling started strickling down his face from his nostrils. Slowly Stiles raised his head and found himself at the foot of the Nemeton stump.

Stiles woke up in his bed, with his father's arms around him, screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You sure you want to go to school today?" Tom asked his son as they drank a cup of coffee at the dining table. "You know, I've been thinking."

"Yeah, I need to have normality in my life," Stiles said with the slightest smile. He thanked all the high heavens that Tom had thought to make his coffee extra strong that morning. "You've been thinking? That sounds dangerous. Did it hurt?"

"Very funny," Tom said without smiling in the slightest. "Maybe you need to speak to someone, like a counsellor?"

"And say what dad? That I'm being haunted by a magical tree stump in my dreams after dying for sixteen hours to save your life?" Stiles said. "I'd earn a one way ticket to Eichen House."

Stiles was annoyed at the suggestion. He knew his father couldn't afford therapy for him. He felt like a burden to his dad. An unnecessary weight on his shoulders.

"I'm going to be late for school," Stiles said grabbing his backpack. It was a total lie, he had fifteen minutes before he had to leave,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles walked into economics to find Leslie Marks in his usual spot. He sighed with a roll of his eyes and walked up to her.

"Hi, sorry," he said causing Leslie to look up at him. "I usually sit there."

Leslie started using sign language to communicate with him.

 _That's odd,_ he thought to himself. He knew Leslie wasn't deaf, he'd had a heated conversation with her the previous year about Star Wars. In fact he wasn't sure sign language was even taught at Beacon Hills. _Maybe she's practicing for a family member._

"Okay, uh, no problem," he said giving up his seat. "It's all yours." He moved to the only remaining available seat and opened his text book. It was deafeningly quiet in the classroom, no one was making a sound and all sitting like toy soldiers facing towards to blackboard. Silent and unmoving.

"That's weird," Stiles whispered. He looked to the front of the class and saw Coach Finnstock staring at him. "Hey Coach, thought I was in the wrong class for a sec."

Finnstock started making signs to Stiles, identical to the ones Leslie had made to him moments ago.

"Uh, okay," Stiles said. "I don't, I don't actually know sign language. Actually I didn't know that you knew sign language. That it was even an elective here."

Finnstock didn't say a word, he just kept repeating the same signs over and over.

"Well this has been good," Stiles said gathering his books into his arms and standing up. "I'm probably gonna, uh, head out."

As Stiles started walking out of the classroom he turned back and saw every student in the class making the same signs to him, over, and over, and over. It tickled at his mind, and he could feel his own sanity slipping. Gradually they started to speed up their signing. Some faces showed urgency, panic even. Stiles started to feel sweat beading on his face, he became dizzy. The silence became so deafening all he could hear was a high pitched ringing, behind which he could almost hear a deep, menacing laughter.

Stiles woke up from his desk to Finnstock blasting his whistle inches from his ear.

"Stilinski!" Finnstock shouted.

"Uh-huh," Stiles said trying to catch his breath.

"I asked you a question," Finnstock said.

"Uh, sorry Coach, what was it?"

"Oh, it was 'Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?'," Finnstock said with a slight mocking to his voice.

"Oh, well, I am now."

"Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink every night. Does anybody else want to answer the question on the board? Greenburg?"

Stiles looked over at Scott who had a worried look on his face, his mouth slightly open.

"I'm okay," Stiles said reassuringly. "I just fell asleep for a sec."

"Dude," Scott said raising his eyebrows. "You weren't asleep."

Stiles frowned. He was sure he had been asleep. The dream had been so vivid. He looked down to his notebook where in his handwriting the words _wake up_ were written in various of block letters and lower case letters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm having nightmares every night," Stiles said at the lunch table. He'd finally decided to open up to his friends. Honesty was the best policy, right? "Most mornings I wake myself up screaming louder than Lydia."

"Funny" Lydia said sarcastically.

"Seriously though, guys," Stiles said ignoring her. "I think we should talk about what's happening to us."

"I keep seeing Kate," Allison said picking at her nail polish. "But it's not entirely Kate. It's like she's been turned into a wolf or something. I almost shot Lydia yesterday because I thought she was Kate."

"Thank God Isaac was there," Lydia said then frowned when she heard a low growl rumble from Scott. "Pipe down, hot stuff. What's your story then?"

"I'm transforming," Scott said glancing down at his nails. "Uncontrollably. I look down sometimes and my nails are growing. I look in my reflection and my eyes are red. Sometimes I feel my teeth sharpening."

Each person was undergoing something they knew was a risk. They knew that undergoing the surrogate sacrifice would have some repercussions, but they didn't know if it would be this bad.

"Would you have still done it if you knew this would happen?" Isaac asked. The question was taken offensively. Stiles would have given his life for his father, and he knew Scott would have done the same. For all three of them they only had one parent left and those parents were in danger. There is nothing they would not have done.

"Okay," Scott said quickly changing the topic. "So what happens to a person who has a near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?"

"And is unable to tell what's real or not?" Stiles added.

"And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?" Allison finished.

"They're locked up because they're insane," Isaac said.

"Ha," Stiles mock laughed. "Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

"For half my childhood I was locked in a freezer. So being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

"Are you still milking that?" Stiles mocked not noticing the woman walking up to the crowd.

"Hi," Kira said. "Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about. And I think I might actually know what you guys are talking about."

Stiles glanced around at his friends who were looking at Kira with curiosity. Stiles however felt a familiar feeling of a violent pull deep inside him towards the woman, like a bitter feeling of hatred that is quickly washed away by his confusion and interest.

"There's a Tibetan word for it," Kira continued taking the silence as an invitation. "It's called ' _Bardo'._ It literally means _in between state_. The state between life and death."

"And what do they call you?" Lydia asked not quite liking that someone had more information on a topic than she did.

"Kira," Scott answered automatically, not taking his eyes off of the Japanese girl. An act not missed by Stiles. Or anyone else who stared at Scott. He looked around at each of them guiltily. "She's in our history class."

"So are you talking _Bardo_ in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?" Lydia asked.

"Either I guess," Kira said finally sitting down next to Stiles. "But all that stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in _Bardo_. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities," Isaac said raising an eyebrow and rubbing his chin. He seemed to be the only member of the group not truly buying into what was going on. "And what are those?"

 _Shut up and let her talk man,_ Stiles thought to himself.

"Like demons," Kira said like it was the most obvious answer.

"Demons," Stiles nodded sarcastically. "Why not?"

"Hold on," Allison said. "If there are different progressive states then what's the last one?"

"Death. You die."

Stiles eyes went wide at this. There was a sudden weight dropped on him, like a conclusive sentence. He was sure Buddhism was about peace and gratification in one's life, so why would something meant to be peaceful actually be haunting him until he died? He wondered if that meant he was on his way to dying.

 _Right now I could use a grumpy-ass werewolf hug,_ Stiles thought to himself and then frowned. He remembered his dream last night about Derek. He remembered his dream a few nights ago about Derek. He wasn't sure if he liked dreaming about Derek, because that would mean his subconscious wanted him to admit something he'd been denying the last three years.

Stiles Stilinski had feelings for Derek Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm aiming to post every Monday. Obviously I won't be posting this coming Monday cause the chapter is here now. Haha.  
> If anyone has any recommendations, suggestions, comments, I'd love to hear them all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD! I'm so, so sorry about how short this is. I seriously could not think of what else to write. I hate how short this is. It's also super late. I'm so sorry guys. I promise the next chapter will have some original plot in it.
> 
> Also, I just want to add that the Malia part of S3a will be brushed off. It stills happens but it's not a significant part.

Stiles let Scott talk him in to seeing Deaton that evening so talk about his nightmares. Especially after what happened in class, where he thought he was asleep dreaming about mute classmates, but had in fact been awake, looking vacant and hastily writing lines in his notebook.

The boys walked in to the veterinarian-slash-druid's office where the man greeted them with his usual monotone voice. He flipped the sign to _closed_ and turned to the boys.

"Please, follow me," Deaton said as he walked in to his office and indicated for the boys to sit down. "What's going on?"

"I've, uh, I, um," Stiles stammered not sure where to begin.

"It's okay, Stiles," Deaton reassured. "Just relax, take a deep breath. There's no rush."

"I've been having these strange nightmares," Stiles said. "They're so vivid, sometimes I'm one hundred percent sure they're real. I struggle to distinguish whether or not I'm awake or asleep. I've been waking up almost every morning screaming like a banshee. Lydia would be impressed actually. Usually the nightmares involve the Nemeton, usually I'm doing something like laying in bed."

Stiles didn't quite feel the need to include the parts about Derek Hale being involved at times.

"Usually I'm lying in bed, and like, I'll feel these fingers wrapping themselves up my arm and I'm pulled to the floor and I'm at the foot of the Nemeton. Or I'll be walking through school and there will be an open door that I walk through and two guesses what is in the room when I get there. But today it was super weird. I dreamt that I walked in to economics and there was this girl in my usual seat and when I talked to her she replied in sign language, which at first I thought was weird cause I know Leslie can speak."

Deaton frowned, crossing his arms. Scott looked like a small child being read a fairy tale, totally invested in what Stiles was saying. It gave Stiles an odd sense of reassurance that the two men didn't totally think he was crazy and was just letting him talk.

"Then Coach comes in and starts talking in sign language, and then the whole class. Then I woke up, and Scott tells me I was awake the whole time."

"You were just staring into space dude," Scott said. "And writing in your book."

"It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you," Deaton said leaning against the operating table. Stiles felt a cold trickle run down his spine.

_Like someone walking across your grave, Stiles,_ he thought to himself, though it wasn't quite his own voice he heard inside his mind. It was cold and empty.

"Well how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?"

"Do you remember what the sign language looked like? The placement and movements of the hands?"

"Uh, yeah, it was like this I think," Stiles said emulating the image that was burned into his memory.

"That's it?" Deaton asked. "That means _when is a door not a door._ "

" _When is a door not a door_?" Stiles said frowning. Great, he really was going insane. First he dreams of a stupid tree trying to strangle him, then his subconscious comes up with stupid riddles.

"When it's ajar," Scott whispered.

"You're kidding me, a riddle? My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?"

"Not necessarily," Deaton said. "When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of super-consciousness you essentially opened a door in your minds."

"So what, the door to our minds is still open?" Scott asked.

"Ajar."

"A door ... into our minds," Stiles repeated.

"I did tell you it was risky."

"So what do we do about it?" Stiles asked with an accusing look in his eyes.

"Well, that's difficult to answer," Deaton replied.

"Jesus Christ," Stiles yelled. "Why do you always have to speak in god damn riddles? Why can't you just give me a straight god damn fucking answer?"

Deaton slowly moved his eyes to meet with Stiles'. Scott had jumped from the outburst, not used to seeing such anger from his best friend.

"I know the look on your face, that's the ' _we know exactly what's wrong with you and we have no idea how to fix it'_ look," Stiles said.

"One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind, it's not good. You each need to close that door," Deaton said keeping his eyes on Stiles. "And you need to do it as soon as possible."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, time in which he and Scott had found a werecoyote they believed to be missing girl Malia, Stiles found himself in the last place he expected to find himself. The rusted, smelly and claustrophobic elevator clanked and rattled as it ascended the building. He didn't question why he was there, he just felt deep inside that that is where he needed to be. Stiles certainly did not admit that to himself, because according to him he didn't need no one, thank you very much. They needed him. He was the glue that held everyone together, or so he hoped.

The elevator door groaned in protest as it opened to Derek's loft. It still surprised Stiles that the man actually had a home. Not that he expected Derek to be homeless, no sir. He just expected him to live in his old family's burnt out home. He just seemed the type to be all broody. He walked up to the heavy metal door and knocked three times.

No answer.

"Come on, man," Stiles said knocking again harder. "Derek, open up."

Still no answer. Stiles heart began to race. He felt sweat start to bead up on his forehead. He knew the signs. The beginning of another panic attack. He started banging furiously on the door.

"Derek, please open up man," Stiles begged. "I need you. I've saved your life countless times, please, just this once, save me."

Stiles must have stood banging at that door for what felt like hours. Tears streamed down his face. He heard a click and breathed out a sigh of relief. He pulled open the door with a strength that could rival Scott's, maybe even Deucalion, expecting to see a brooding, angry face ready to rip out his throat. But he wasn't there, the room was quiet and empty, unlived in for a while, weeks maybe.

No Derek.

"This is why he didn't answer Scott's call," Stiles whispered. "Where are you?"

He walked over to the bar fridge in the kitchen and helped himself to a beer. It wasn't his drink of choice, he far preferred to sneak whiskey out of his dad's liquor cabinet, but he would take what he could get. He looked around the studio apartment, barren and empty. Both from the distinct lack of a werewolf and the lack of furniture or other homely items.

Stiles down the beer and walked over to Derek's bed. He slowly crawled in, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets. For the first time in months he felt safe and warm. He was comfortable. The smell of old leather, and the warm almost canine smell that lingered on the bed lulled Stiles into sleep.

And for the first time in as long as he can remember Stiles did not have a nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm the shittest person on the planet when it comes to updating. I'm so, so sorry.  
> I promise I will update once every two weeks!!! I'll try for once a week, but I can't promise. University is kicking my ass at the moment. Please forgive!
> 
> I'd love to give a shout out to Lauren who is kicking my ass to get this fic written. If it weren't for her support I would have given this up months ago.
> 
> Also, I just wanna say that I'm a newb when it comes to Teen Wolf, but I did binge watch all that's been released in the last month, working around uni and work. So I'm all up to date. I FREAKING HATE that Tyler Hoechlin (SP?) left the show. It hurt me on an emotional level. But I also understand why he did it.  
> Derek WILL NOT be leaving in this fic. I have no planned ending to this fic, as I also plan to go through the Deadpool arc, and the Dread Doctors. I just need you guys to support and love me ... and kick my ass when I get slack on updates.
> 
> I'm going to be honest here, I'm not a fan of trigger warnings in fics. The reason for this being that when you're watching a movie, or you're reading a book, you don't get trigger warnings. Plus, the scenes are almost always in there for a reason, and if you don't feel safe reading those scenes you're probably going to miss a vital part of the story.
> 
> I will not be giving trigger warnings in future. I can promise you that there will not be any rape scenes, self harming scenes, or abuse scenes.
> 
> Here are your only trigger warnings, because I'm somewhat nice:  
> There will be many of the anxiety attacks. I will write them both from what I can see on the screen and basing them off of my own experience with them.  
> I'm toying with the idea of maybe alcohol abuse. Maybe. Dunno.  
> There is a scene with an anxiety attack in this chapter.
> 
> Much love.

Stiles arrived in the school car park forty minutes early for school. It was probably the first time he'd ever been this early. The car park was empty, not even teachers had started to arrive. He inwardly cursed his body for not taking advantage of a nightmare free sleep and letting him sleep as much as possible. He sat in his jeep thinking of an excuse to give to his father when he got home from school that night so that he didn't have to worry the man. He could get Scott to cover for him, but then he would need to tell Scott something. He certainly did not want to admit to his best friend that he had spent the night at Derek Freaking Hale's house, because his best friend certainly did not know that Stiles bat for both teams. Stiles enjoyed the thought that according to Scott Stiles most certainly did not stay at Derek house last night. Stiles most certainly did not cocoon himself in Derek's blankets, and finally Stiles absolutely most certainly not smell strongly of the older werewolf.

 _Shit, how am I supposed to explain that to Scott?_ Stiles thought to himself. _He's definitely going to notice._

Stiles sighed to himself knowing it was a lost cause. He whipped his phone out from the centre console to shoot off a text to Scott and Allison in the group chat they had made.

 **Got some info on the Malia situation guys,** it had said.

 **Dude. Too early for this**. Scott replied.

 **I'll meet you in your AH class** Allison replied. AH was American History. Stiles smiled as he remembered his father giving him strict instructions that under absolutely no circumstance other than his teacher instructing him to is he to write about the history of male (or female after Stiles raised an eyebrow) circumcision. Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Scott walked up to Stiles the first thing Stiles noticed was that his best friend was indiscreetly sniffing at the air, like he'd caught a scent and was trying to figure out where it came from. Stiles mentally kicked himself for not having the foresight to at least take a bath in deodorant before coming to class.

"Why do you smell like Derek?" Scott asked.

"Hey guys," Allison interrupted before Stiles had a chance to say anything to Scott.

 _I need to buy her flowers or something,_ Stiles made a mental note.

Stiles, Allison and Scott huddled together in the back corner of the classroom. Stiles pulled out his tablet and opened the map application with an already marked pindrop.

"Here's where we found the den," Stiles said. "It's right in the middle of the hiking trails."

"That can narrow it down, coyotes travel on fixed trails," Allison said. "But I think you're right about her not going back to the den. Coyotes don't like wolves. And they're really smart, if they don't want to be heard they actually walk on their toes."

"Coyotes tip-toe?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"They tip-toe," Allison said with a roll of her eyes. The bell rang to signal the beginning of class. "I gotta go, but send me the pin location!"

"Okay," Stiles said taking a screenshot of the map to send to her later and walked to his seat. He saw Scott get stopped by Kira and smiled as they both nervously talked about the research Kira had done for Scott. Kira rummaged through her bag before her father handed what looked like a textbook of loose pages to her.

"Alright everyone, let's get started," Mr Yukimura addressed the class. "We were just talking about internment camps and prisoners of war. There's a passage in our reading that I'd like to go over in more detail. Who would like to come up and read out loud for us? Mr Stilinski, how about you?"

"Oh, um, maybe," Stiles stuttered. He was still struggling to read. "Maybe someone else could?"

"Everyone participates in my class Mr Stilinski."

Stiles recognised a losing battle when he saw one. He begrudgingly walked up to the lectern and faced his class. No one was particularly paying him any attention, but that didn't make his nerves any easier. He looked down at the pages below him and was pleased to see actual words there. Just for a moment. When he actually tried to focus in on the words and read the letters seemed to melt away off of the page.

 _Not again, not now,_ Stiles thought to himself. He hoped to any and all religious deities that he was still asleep in Derek's obscenely small yet comfortable bed and this was a nightmare.

His breath started to catch in his throat, forming an uncomfortable lump. His heart started to race, blood pulsed painfully in his ears. He gripped the sides of the lectern so tight his knuckles turned white and his vision started to blur.

"Stiles, you okay?" Scott asked raising from his desk. "I should take him to the nurses office."

Scott ushered Stiles from the classroom and as soon as they were clear from the door Stiles pushed out of Scott's arms and raced, almost blind, to the nearest bathroom. He couldn't count the amount of times he barged into a wall or someone's locker trying to get to the bathroom, but he could probably just count the bruises later. He pushed open the door with all his strength, almost falling into the bathroom in the mean time and looked around for a mirror. He threw himself at the sink and tried to focus on his reflection.

"Hey, Stiles," Scott urged. "Look at me man, is this a panic attack?"

Stiles ignored him.

"It's a dream," he told himself. "It's a dream, this is just a dream."

"No it's not, this is real. You're here, you're here with me," Scott said with his own shade of panic in his voice. "Okay, um, what do you do? I mean, like, how do you tell if you're awake or if you're dreaming?"

"Your fingers," Stiles said, really struggling to breathe. His vision blurred hard at the lack of oxygen. "You count your fingers. You have extra fingers in your dreams."

"How many do I have? Hey," Scott said holding up his hands. "Look at me. Come on Stiles. Look at my hands and count with me. One."

"Two?" Stiles asked, unsure. His breathing didn't ease.

"Keep going," Scott urged holding up another.

"Three ... Four."

"Five."

"Six. Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine," Stiles said. His heart raced. Scott only had one more digit to lift until Stiles knew if he were awake or dreaming.

"Ten," Scott said lifting that final decisive digit. Stiles couldn't believe it. He looked over both hands to make sure there weren't any extra fingers waiting to pop out. Relief swamped over him like a tsunami. He collapsed against the cold tiles on the wall and slumped down to the ground. His breathing returned to normal.

"What the hell is happening to me?" Stiles begged. He wanted to cry, but it just wouldn't be manly.

"We're going to figure it out," Scott said. "You're gonna be okay."

"Am I?" Stiles asked. "Are you? Scott, you can't transform. Allison's being haunted by her dead aunt, and I'm straight up losing my mind. We can't do this. We can't ... We can't help Malia. We can't help anyone."

"We can try," Scott promised. "We can always try."

The boys sat in silence for at least twenty minutes on the cold floor. The only noise was the steady drip of a tap.

"What does that sound like?" Stiles asked. "To a werewolf?"

"The dripping?" Scott asked and Stiles nodded. "It sounds like something snapping at first. Like something soft though. A gentle break. Then it sounds like a church bell almost, but high pitched rather than deep. It has the softest of echoes. It's kind of beautiful actually."

"Can I," Stiles began but hesitated. He was frightened to continue, to walk down a path where he either lost his best friend and his brother or nothing changed. It was a risk he didn't know if he could take.

"What's up?"

"I think I want to tell you something," Stiles whispered. He hoped Scott hadn't heard but he knew it was futile with werewolf ears.

"Is this about why you reek of Derek?"

"Kind of," Stiles said and figured he should explain that part first. "You know these nightmares I've been having?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sometimes Derek's in them," Stiles said running his fingers through his hair.

"You're having nightmares about Derek?"

"No! No, he's just in them. Sometimes. Anyway, so, I really just wanted a distraction last night, because to be honest I've been too scared to sleep lately. Don't give me that look," Stiles said when Scott frowned at him. "I know I can come to you at any time, but I figured, hey, I've saved Derek's ass about a dozen times now, it's his turn to save mine. But when I got to his place, he wasn't home, but his door was unlocked. Weird, right?"

"Totally," Scott said. "His door is always locked."

Scott felt slightly guilty about lying to his best friend, but he was sure that his heart still coming down from his panic attack would be enough to cover his lie.

"Anyway, so I went in, helped myself to a couple of beers and figured I'd just crash there the night, oh by the way, if my dad asks I stayed at yours last night, okay?" Stiles asked and Scott nodded. "I don't want to worry him more than he already is."

"So that's why you smell like him," Scott summarised.

"Yeah," Stiles said and let the room go quiet once again. "Scott ... I think I might be kind of gay."

"Okay," Scott said as is Stiles said he wanted Hawaiian pizza instead of cheese.

"Okay? Just ... okay?"

"Dude, you know I don't care if you're gay or not. You're my best friend. Besides, I always thought that you might've been hooking up with Danny on the sly."

"Danny would be so lucky," Stiles said with a grin. "So, we're all good?"

"Of course you dick," Scott said punching Stiles arm, then pulling him in for a hug.

For five minutes, until the bell rang, all was good in Stiles' world.

"Kira," Scott said suddenly and ran from the bathroom leaving Stiles alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A couple of students said they saw it running across the field back into the woods," Papa Stilinski said with an arm around his son's shoulders. "Thank God nobody got hurt."

"What happens if she does hurt someone?" Stiles asked.

"Most likely they'll have to put her down."

"Put _her_ down!" Stiles corrected. "Dad, try not to forget there's a girl in there. One that you'll be killing. Come on, you're not back to not believing are you?"

"You know what? I believe there are a lot of things I don't understand yet. But that doesn't mean that anything and everything imaginable is suddenly possible. Now are you one hundred percent sure that this is a girl and not an animal?"

"Yes," Stiles said looking in his father's eyes defiantly. "Because Scott's sure."

Stiles turned to see his friend by the doors. He needed to show his dad why he had faith in his best friend. He turned his back to Scott.

"Scott, you been listening?" Stiles whispered. He didn't need to look back to know Scott had nodded.

"All right, let's get this figured out," Tom said throwing his hand up in defeat.

When they walked into the locker room Stiles looked around to see what he could find. What he did find surprised him but made things clearer. He walked back to Scott.

"Scott," he said pulling out the doll. "I figured out what she was looking for."

Scott rolled his eyes and deadpanned at Stiles.

"You took the doll from the car."

"I thought you could use it, y'know," Stiles said defensively. "For, like, her scent."

"Where did you get that?" A voice said behind him. The boys turned around and saw Mr Tate entering the locker room. "Where did you find this? It belonged to my daughter."

"Mr Tate," Sherriff Stilinski said walking up to the three. "I don't know how you heard about this, whether you've got your own police scanner or what, but you can't be here."

He gently pushed on the other man's side to usher him out of the room but hesitated. He opened the man's jacket revealing a pistol in a holster on the man's side.

"I've got a permit," he defended.

"California schools are gun free zones, permit or not permit. You need to leave Mr Tate. Now."

"You find animal. You find that ... Thing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this!  
> Feel free to leave kudos, and leave a comment with what you like, dislike, and suggestions. I love suggestions.
> 
> Also, going to give a shameless plug to myself here.
> 
> I am a special effects make up artist in Australia, and I would love to share my work with this wonderful world.  
> If you have time, and an appreciation for art, feel free to check out my facebook page:
> 
> http://www.facebook.com/gorebychina


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got super happy to write this chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Please leave kudos and comments! I wanna hear from you guys!  
> There is fluff! I repeat: THERE IS FLUFF IN THIS CHAPTER! STEREK FLUFF!
> 
> Also guys, I know I've been running strictly by canon, almost stealing dialogue straight from the show, which is making this fic very dialogue heavy. But from this moment in there's gonna be a fair amount of canon divergence and once the MRI scene happens, it will be 90% my own work rather than just 75%

"Easy," Isaac had said to Scott and Stiles after they had both wondered how they could capture a werecoyote without killing it. "Find a way to knock it out. She'll heal, right?"

"We don't know," Scott admitted. "There's not really much information on werecoyotes out in the world. This is the first time I've heard of one."

The boys continued to wonder. Stiles began fiddling with the buttons of his jacket. They could probably find a way to trap her with mountain ash, but that would be counterproductive with none of the wolves actually being able to enter the circle. Well, Scott could, but the one and only time he attempted that it very almost killed him. That was the moment he claimed his status as True Alpha, and right now his wolfyness was not at all reliable.

They could ask Allison to ask her father to set up the high pitched sound emitter things to trap her like they had trapped Boyd and Cora the year before.

"Oh," Stiles muttered, then started moving his arms erratically. "Oh! OH!"

"Want to let us in on the 'oh's?" Isaac asked sarcastically.

"Deaton. Tranquilizers. Shooting. Werecoyote sleep." Stiles started mumbling words together. Only Scott seemed to focus on what he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So let me get this straight," Deaton said picking up various vials of clear fluid in his office and moving them onto different shelves. "You want me to illegally give you a sedative in hopes of trying to capture a coyote you suspect is really a teenage girl?"

"Exactly," Stiles said as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Xylazine," Deaton said without taking his eyes off of Stiles. His hands were a flurry at the shelves when we produced three vials. Stiles noticed one of them he had already stacked neatly. "Horse tranquilizer. For a werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds. But I only have three."

"So whoever's shooting needs to be a damn good shot," Stiles deadpanned.

"Allison. Allison is a perfect shot!" Scott said excitedly.

"Was," Isaac said. "She was a perfect shot, and that's if we even manage to find the thing."

"She can do it," Scott said, but with not quite as much conviction.

"Okay, what is the point of him," Stiles said pointing at Isaac. "Seriously, I mean, what is his purpose besides the persistent negativity? And the scarf? What's up with the scarf anyway? It's sixty-five degrees!"

"Look. Maybe I'm asking the question here no one wants to ask," Isaac said tugging at the scarf around his neck. Stiles looked at it with persistent confusion. "How do we turn a coyote back into a girl when she hasn't been a girl for eight years?"

There was silence in the room, deafening silence. Stiles thought it would be there for hours until someone said something. Deaton was looking expectantly at Scott and Stiles eyes were darting to and from the three men in the room.

"I can do it," Scott whispered.

"You can?" Stiles asked feeling his eyebrow tug upwards. Something deep in his chest rumbled. Like it wanted to reach out and punch his best friend.

"You remember the night that Peter trapped us in the school?" Scott asked and Stiles nodded.

 _Like it's something I will soon forget,_ he thought to himself but remained silent.

"In the gym he was able to make me turn just using his voice. Deucalion did the same thing in the distillery."

"This is a were _coyote_ , Scott," Deaton said. "Who knows if it'll even work even if you can find someone to teach you."

Stiles eyes widened, remembering after they had found the werecoyote in her den that Scott had called Derek.

"That's why you called Derek, first."

"Yeah, I mean, I could try it on my own, but right now I'm too scared to change into just a werewolf."

"We need a real Alpha," Stiles said rubbing his chin. He was confused by his statement, knowing that Scott was in fact a _true_ Alpha, so he was very much real, and Stiles was even more confused that he didn't feel regret for the insult. "You know what I mean. An Alpha who can do Alpha things. An Alpha who, you know, can get it going. You know, get it--"

"Up?" Isaac offered with a smirk.

"Right," Stiles nodded.

"Great. I'm an Alpha with performance issues."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia, Scott and Stiles walked into Derek's loft, where they had made arrangements to with the Twins Ethan and Aidan to teach Scott to not fear his wolf. It had been Scott's suggestion after they sorted through the current Alpha's that they collectively knew.

The loft was empty. Stiles quickly glanced at the bed he had used to get a full night sleep without any nightmares and felt a pining for it. Lydia stepped into the loft like she owned it, because, well, it's Lydia.

"They said they'd meet us here," Lydia said looking around. Her statement was ignored by the sound of a fist meeting bone. Stiles and Lydia turned around to see Scott cop an elbow in the face from one of the twins. They proceeded to throw him further into the loft almost causing him to collide with Stiles and Lydia.

"Time to move," Stiles said grabbing Lydia by the shoulder and pulling her to the side. One of the twins flipped over the steps to hit Scott in the face once again causing the Alpha to stagger back into the fist of the other twin. Once twin held Scott whilst the other hit him in the stomach repeatedly.

"I thought you guys were going to teach me how to roar," Scott wheezed out, breathless from the air that had been knocked out of him.

"We are," Aidan said. "You do it by giving in!"

"You do it by giving in and letting go. That's how Deucalion taught us control."

"Hey, you know that's funny," Stiles said remembering the time he spent throwing lacrosse balls at Scott to teach him control. "I actually tried something just like this, one time using a heart monitor and lacrosse balls. But you're right, beating the crap out of him is probably a lot better."

"Wait, that's actually the plan?" Scott asked. "You kick my ass?"

"You're afraid to turn," Ethan said. "We're gonna make you."

"You turn, then you kick our asses."

"Then you roar," Ethan said turning and roaring at Scott, eyes glowing bright blue.

"You don't think you can let go with us? Don't think you can hurt us?" Aidan said shoving Scott back towards Ethan. "Come on McCall. Give it your all! We can always heal!"

Scott tried to fight back, throwing a lazy punch at Ethan. Stiles knew it was useless trying to fight two ex-Alphas with the strength of a human too scared of his own power.

"You're an Alpha. You want to roar like one?" Ethan asked. "You gotta give in full throttle, you gotta be the monster, become the beast, become everything you're afraid of."

"That's what gives you power," Aidan finished. "Gives you strength."

"Giving into it doesn't make you the bad day," Ethan said.

"So long as you can control it," Aidan said thought Stiles made note that he was looking more at his brother when saying this. It was well known that of the two Ethan was more volatile. Scott lay on the floor, constantly spitting out mouthfuls of blood onto the cold stone floor.

"And sometimes control is a little overrated," Ethan said followed by kicking Scott in the face.

"Come on Scott, fight back," Stiles whispered. Something deep inside him made him want to jump in and fight too. To rip into the flesh of all three of them.

"What if I can't control it?" Scott asked looking up at the twins. "What if I can't turn back?"

"Then it takes over," Aidan said finally seeing what the issue is. "You become Malia. You get further and further away from being human, you turn into an animal. Or worse ... Peter."

Stiles watched with a sense of pride as Scott slowly stood up. That last comment spurred him on. He wiped the blood from his mouth and with a roar charged at Ethan.

 _It's not going to work,_ Stiles thought to himself. _Not while you're still human, you idiot._

Stiles and Lydia cringed as Ethan grabbed Scott by the throat and threw him onto the table and jumped up with a leg either side of him and repeatedly punched him in the face until Aidan caught his fist to stop him.

"What?" Ethan spat out. "I thought we were helping him?"

"You help too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, you going back to yours tonight or...?" Scott asked Stiles who was running his hands over the steering wheel of Roscoe.

"I'm going to crash at Derek's," Stiles said. "I could do without nightmares tonight."

"I wonder why you don't have nightmares when you stay there."

"When you find out can you let me know?" Stiles asked. "That way I can replicate it for home so I'm not waking my dad up screaming every god damn night. Speaking of home..."

"Yeah, I got you covered. But we should probably think of something to tell your dad, you know, just in case he starts to wonder why you're spending almost every night at mine."

"We'll just tell him half of the truth," Stiles decided. "I don't have nightmares when I'm at your place. Or hey, I could tell him I'm kinda gay and that I just needed some space to work out how to tell him."

"Whilst I wholeheartedly think you should tell your dad, who would have no issue with it since he had no issue with the whole werewolf, kanima, banshee thing, I think he would call bullshit on you avoiding home for being gay."

"You're right. Well, we'll just tell him that I'm giving him a break from me waking him up," Stiles said pulling his phone out so he can shoot his father a text. "And it's not like he'll ask your mom, right?"

"I'll tell her to cover for you, too. Anyway dude, I'm going to head inside. I'm sore."

"You're the best, man," Stiles said pulling his best friend in for a hug. "Have a hot bath, that should help the pain some. Maybe."

"Sleep well," Scott said squeezing his friend as tight as his broken bones and bruised muscles would allow. "I mean it."

When Stiles arrived back at the loft ten minutes later he quickly got out the mop bucket to mop up the congealed blood on the floor. He was sure Derek wouldn't be happy to see blood stained all over his stone floor.

"Why doesn't he just put carpet down for god's sake?" Stiles asked pushing the mop around. "Oh right. Regular blood splatter. Cons of being a werewolf in a town constantly attacked by the supernatural I suppose."

After the blood was clear Stiles decided to call it a night, crawling deep into the covers of Derek's bed, breathing in the comforting smell of safety. It was moments before he fell asleep.

"You're an idiot," Derek said sternly as he raked his fingers through Stiles' hair. "A complete idiot."

"Why this time?" Stiles asked sleepily, his head buried in the older man's chest. He knew he was an idiot, but he couldn't think of a specific reason worth mentioning this time. Not with those fingers massaging his scalp, causing Stiles to feel a moan forming deep in his chest.

"You seriously took out all the nails and screws in your coach's office and put them in a gift box on his desk?"

"It was his birthday!" Stiles said grinning against the warm, firm skin.

"You're an idiot," Derek laughed pressing his lips against the top of Stiles head. That's when the moan escaped.

"An adorable and oddly endearing idiot."

"Can't argue with that," Derek said with a chuckle. "By the way, what the hell are you doing in my bed?"

"What? What do you mean 'what are you doing in my bed'?" Stiles asked but was yanked from his dream by Derek throwing him on the floor.

"I mean what the hell are you doing sleeping in my bed?" Real life Derek roared with his eyes flashing blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry about the cliffhanger. I've had this planned since I uploaded the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it!  
> I've been reading some AMAZING fics on here in between uni and writing this chapter. Some amazing ones I have read are:
> 
> Once Bitten (srsly. Super cute)  
> Big Brother: Wolf Wars (I didn't think I would like this. But I'm hooked on it. I read all that was released in one night!)
> 
> I'll definitely leave at least one recommendation with each chapter so you guys have something to read between my chapters!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit of Sterekness. Plus Peter being Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for reading this. I know I'm bad at updating. But I promise to get at least one chapter out every two weeks!!!!  
> I've already started the next one, so yeah, that's exciting, right?  
> Please note: I will NOT be pairing Scott with Kira. I love Kira but that relationship just doesn't seem right to me. I plan on pairing Scott with someone else.
> 
> Also, I'm considering having Isaac stay rather than leave. Can I get some opinions on this please?

"Well, uh, um," Stiles stammered. "Well, you see, um." It was no good and he knew it. Stiles didn't have a plausible excuse for breaking into Derek Hale's loft and sleeping in Derek Hale's bed. Speaking of Derek Hale, the werewolf grew characteristically impatient with Stiles' lack of an excuse, wrapped a clawed hand around his throat and yanked the teenager from his bed. With a hard _thump_ Stiles back pressed painfully against the cold wall of the loft.

"Stiles," Derek growled through exposed fangs. "You have exactly until the count of three to tell me why I found you asleep in my bed."

"Someone's been sleeping in _my_ bed," sneered a voice that sent cold shivers down Stiles' spine. "Ah, and his hair is almost long enough that we can call him _Goldilocks_. Not too fond of the colour though."

"Shut up Peter," Derek growled, his electric blue eyes piercing into Stiles' own honey coloured eyes. "One."

"I..." Stiles wheezed.

 _You stupid Sourwolf, how the hell can I answer if I can't freaking breathe?_ Stiles thought to himself. _What do you want from me? 'Oh hi, Derek! Hope you don't mind but I've been crashing in your bed so I don't have any freaking nightmares.'_

Stiles considered his options here. He could remain quiet and almost definitely have his throat ripped out by Derek. Or he could tell Derek the reason and have Peter laugh at him menacingly until Derek ripped out Stiles' throat. Both were unpleasant options that Stiles didn't really know which would be worse.

"Two..."

Probably Peter laughing at him.

"Can't breathe," Stiles wheezed.

"Three," Derek said pressing Stiles against the wall further and tightening his grip. Stiles felt the sharp points of Derek's claws against his skin.

"Okay," Stiles wheezed out looking pleadingly into those terrifying eyes. "I'll tell you, just let me go."

Stiles wondered how on God's green earth the relief for his nightmares was the terrifying ex-Alpha werewolf who had frequently threatened his throat. Derek held his grip for another moment before letting Stiles go who in turn crumbled in a heap on the ground grasping at his throat, coughing, trying to regain his breath.

"I promise to tell you, but can he leave?" Stiles reasoned with his eyes on the werewolf that had really changed his and Scott's lives forever.

"No," Derek growled reaching for Stiles' throat again.

"The nightmares," Stiles whispered. "I can't stand the nightmares."

And of course Peter chuckled.

"What does that have to do with me finding you asleep in my bed?" Derek asked ignoring his uncle.

"I don't ... I don't have them when I sleep here," Stiles admitted.

And of course Peter roared with laughter.

"Asshole," Stiles whispered and looked up into Derek's eyes pleading him to understand where Stiles was coming from. Derek's eyes softened into their regular shade of green.

"You mean to tell me that you're too _scared_ to sleep in your own bed so you break into _my_ home and sleep in _my_ bed?" Derek growled, though noticeably less threateningly. Stiles opened his mouth to answered but found no words would leave his tongue. All he could do was nod.

"He really is a child," Peter choked out between laughs. The man was laughing so hard he was going red in the face. Stiles noticed the man put a wooden box delicately on Derek's coffee table to prevent him from dropping it.

"Derek, do you think Scott would give me the bite just so I could rip out Peter's throat?" Stiles said only half jokingly.

"Get out," Derek said to Stiles jutting his finger to the heavy sliding doors. "Now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan was simple, the pack meets on the outskirts of Malia's trail at sunrise. Stiles in Roscoe, Scott on his bike, and Lydia with Allison and Isaac as passengers. Simple, right?

Except Allison clearly looked like she hadn't slept in a month, with shopping bags big enough to carry Lydia's shopping for a month. She looked as exhausted as Stiles felt. Scott didn't look too much better. Though his body recovered more quickly than theirs, Stiles could tell his friend was suffering fatigue.

 _What a joyful life we live_ he thought to himself. Because yes, he was just that sarcastic.

The pack stood around their vehicles glancing back and forth between each other.

"Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?" Lydia asked.

"We're trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter," Scott justified.

"Actually we're trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote who is actually his daughter who we don't know how to change from a coyote back in to his daughter," Isaac deadpanned.

"And again with the not helping," Stiles groaned throwing his hands up in the air.

 _Jackass_ he thought to himself, almost wishing his filter hadn't kicked in and he could shout it at the annoying scarf wearing unhelpful beta with the stupid curly hair.

"Did you bring it?" Scott asked looking at his beta, a look easily showing his patience was being tested. Allison rolled her eyes at the pissing contest between the wolves and yanked open the boot (AN: I can't remember what American's call the boot of the car, and I'm Australian, and I am not good at the cultural language difference) pulling out her tranquilizer gun. Her hands gripped it shakily and without the huntress's usual confidence.

"You can do this," Scott affirmed giving her a smile to try and keep up her spirit. Allison returned the gesture with a smile that was not quite as sure. The moment was of course ruined as the noise of gunfire ripped through the air. The two wolves quickly turned on the spot to the direction of the sound ready to run. Scott was the first to move as he jumped on his bike and sped up the trail.

"Wait, wait, wait," Stiles called running up to his friend but stopped as Scott took off into the woods with Isaac and Allison following on foot. "What an idiot," he continued pulling out his phone and calling his father.

"Can't talk right now Stiles," Stilinski said. "The coyote was in Tate's house. Stole the doll again and Tate ran after it."

"It took the doll again?" Stiles asked turning to Lydia. "What is so important about this doll?"

"I don't know, but listen, there are traps all over those woods near the trails, probably near the car crash and Tate is out there with a rifle," his father said. "I want you to stay out of those woods, got that? Stiles?"

A crazed gun-man was stalking through the woods. The woods he was currently standing in. The woods Lydia was currently standing in. The woods Scott was currently driving a very loud motorcycle through. All after a werecoyote with an obsession over a baby doll.

"It's the doll," Stiles said hanging up on his father and looking at Lydia to see if she could understand. "It's the ... doll?"

Another gunshot rang out through the woods.

"I don't know Stiles," Lydia groaned and began pacing. Stiles crouched down looking at the ground as if it could give him an answer.

"Alright, but why would it go all the way to the school then all the way back to the house just for a doll? One that was in the car wreck in the first place. We didn't find it in the coyote den."

"It likes the doll, okay?" Lydia said exasperatedly waving her hands helplessly towards Stiles. "Who cares?"

"Yeah, it likes the doll a lot."

"What kind of doll is it?"

"I don't know it's a doll, you know, it's got little arms a big baby head, dead soulless eyes," Stiles described the best he could. "Actually, I took a pic. Here, look."

"That's Malia?" Lydia asked pointing to the girl in the red jumper.

"No, this one is," he said pointing at the blue jumper wearing girl in the photo.

"Stiles, she's not holding the doll."

"That's Malia's younger sister. It was her doll. I know what she's doing."

"What?"

"I know where she's going, come on," Stiles said pulling Scott's number up to call him, but after a few seconds the call went to voice mail. "Scott, it's me. You've got to call be back as soon as you can. It wasn't Malia's doll, it was her sisters. Malia left it at the car for her sister it's like bringing flowers to her grave, okay? And we stole the flowers! So that's all she's trying to do, right? Bring the doll back to the grave, to the car wreck, that's where she's headed, the car wreck!--"

"Stiles?" Lydia's panicked voice called out to him.

"Yeah?" He asked turning to Lydia who was standing statuesque, keeping her weight unmoving between her two legs. Two years ago Stiles probably would have tried to write sonnets about the image of her long legs standing there. Stiles trailed his eyes down and saw her left leg standing on a bear trap, waiting for her foot to leave the pressure plate to send the bone crushing metal against her ankle.

"Stiles!" She called, causing her weight to shift slightly making the metal to move threateningly.

"Lydia, don't move."

"Look for a warning label," Lydia said between deep breaths.

"Warning label?"

"Instructions on how to disarm it," she spat as if it were obvious.

"Why the hell would they put instructions on the bottom of a trap?"

"Because animals can't read!"

Stiles thought this over and realised she was right and he was an idiot for not realising it straight away. He eased himself on to the ground in search of the warning label, which he found right by what looked like a pressure tap. It was bright red with white righting. The epitome of a warning label. Except the words made absolutely no sense to him.

"Lydia, we got a problem," Stiles said and heard the gasp come from Lydia. "I can't read it either."

"You don't need the instructions," Lydia tried to assure him, but her voice gave away the lack of confidence she had. Six weeks ago and they both knew Stiles would probably have her already safe. "When is the last time you ever used instructions, am I right?"

Stiles looked up at Lydia and saw tears slowly coming down her cheeks. It was clear she was relying on him and he didn't know if he could save her.

"You don't need them because you are too smart to waste your time with them, okay?" She asked with the faintest hint of a smile.

 _Maybe she does really believe in me_ , Stiles thought to himself. There was a spark deep inside his chest telling him he could do this. He could do this because Lydia knew he could do it. Lydia _needed_ him to do it.

"You can figure it out," she said. "Stiles, you're the one who always figures it out, so you can do it. Figure. It. Out."

 _I can do this_ , he thought to himself over and over. He looked from the pressure tap to the trap itself, working out in his mind how the trap worked. He needed to understand how to trigger it before he could understand how to release it.

"Okay," he whispered once he figured it out. "Okay, here we go." Slowly he moved his hand round the pressure tap, gripping it tightly. "You ready?" He asked looking up. Lydia breathed tensely, looking down at Stiles. He understood that meant she was as ready as she possibly could be. He twisted the tap quickly and with a scream Lydia jumped from the trap into his arms. They both watched as the trap smashed together with a loud clang of metal against metal.

"Thank you," she said holding him tightly. "I knew you could do it."

The two began to walk, with much more care, through the woods in what Stiles assumed to be the direction of the car crash, where he planned on meeting Scott and telling him about the doll since his friend still refused to answer his phone.

That's when they heard it, the loud, terrifying roar of an Alpha, that echoed through the woods like a siren.

"Oh, that's what I'm talking about," Stiles said fist pumping into the air. "That's my boy! Yeah!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the very early morning hours of Mischief Day, so more accurately it was Mischief Night, having gone just past midnight. Every year without fail Stiles and Scott had one target that they never failed to hammer each year, and never managed to get caught. It was one of Stiles' most proudest moments each year, successfully pranking their coach. One year the rigged a blue dye pack to blow in his face when he opened his desk drawer, another year they had super glued him to his desk chair. Of course they did small, easy pranks on the man, too, like the unoriginal tack of his chair. But those small pranks were always to lure the man into a false sense of security for a much larger prank.

Stiles easily broke into the school, heading straight for Finnstock's office before he called his best friend up.

"Get your ass down here now," he said the minute Scott answered the phone with a sleepy 'hello'. "We have a job to do!"

"Dude, I'm already in bed," Scott complained though with a slight smile in his voice. "And aren't we getting a little old for this?"

"We do this for coach!" Stiles said adamantly.

"I thought we did this to coach?"

"Whatever man, you know he needs this. He lives for it. He loves it."

"But it's the middle of the night," Scott reasoned as Stiles opened his locker with a torch between his teeth.

"Twelve fifteen, actually," Stiles said after removing the light source and picking up a power drill. "Which means it's after midnight and officially Mischief Night-slash-Day. And by awesome coincidence also happens to be Coach's birthday, so if you are not down here in five seconds, I will destroy you. Okay? And I mean five! Four, three, two..."

Stiles turned around to a glowing pair of red eyes, and with the most manliest of squeaks he fell to the floor.

"One," Scott said with a wolf-like grin.

"I hate you," Stiles said handing Scott a duffle bag with tools. "Come on, let's do this.

Stiles had no idea how he came up with the idea to remove every single nut and bolt and screw in the furniture in Finnstock's office, and he certainly wasn't sure how the idea to put them in a cute little gift box on Coach's desk, rigged up to a wire that held everything in place until the moment it was pulled, came to mind either, but Stiles was damn proud of his idea, and even prouder that Scott and he had managed the task in under three hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles woke up that morning just the way he thought he would. Screaming madly, covered in cold sweat, with his father's arms wrapped around him, cradling him. But he wasn't going to let that get him down. Today was far too important. He had to see his hard work come to life.

When Stiles got to school though he certainly did not expect to see the twins there waiting for Scott.

"You're back at school?" Scott asked them.

"No, just to talk," Aidan said.

"Ah, that's a bit of a change of pace for you guys," Stiles said. "Seeing as though usually you're just hurting, maiming and killing."

"We need a pack, we need an Alpha," Ethan said.

"Yeah, absolutely not, that's hilarious though."

"You came to us for help and we helped," Aidan said.

"You beat his face into a bloody pulp. That's not helping. And in my opinion that's actually counter-productive."

"Why would I say yes?" Scott asked with contemplation.

"We would add strength to your pack, you would be even more powerful. There's no reason to say no."

"I can think of one," Isaac said coming up to the group. For once Stiles was actually pleased to see him. "Like the two of you holding Derek's claws while Kali impaled Boyd. In fact I don't know why we're not impaling them right now."

"Want to try?" Ethan said with his teeth bared and eyes glowing blue. Isaac with a grin stepped closer until Scott gripped his wrist and held him back with a warning glare.

"I'm sorry but they don't trust you," Scott said showing his loyalty to his pack. Stiles felt a glimmer of pride in his chest towards his friend. "And neither do I."

The three walked past the omegas with a strut of confidence, and Stiles adding excitement to his step. That is until he opened up the door and copped a toilet paper roll to his head.

"Whoa, that's my face!" He yelled at a younger student. He slapped Scott on the back and grinned. "Hey dude, good decision, buddy. Good Alpha decision."

"I hope so."

"No, you know so," Stiles said turning out of the way of another flying toilet paper roll and turned to face his locker. He saw Scott looking off in another direction and followed it to Kira who had dropped a book to the floor. He felt that strange feeling of a tug towards the girl and quickly looked back to his locker. He couldn't quite understand why something in his head paid so much attention to the new girl.

"You looking at her?" He asked putting supplies into his locker.

"Who her?" Scott asked obliviously.

"Her, her," Stiles said nodding his head towards the girl. "Kira Her. You like her?"

"No," Scott said far too quickly. "I mean, uh, yeah, she's okay. She's new."

"So, ask her out," Stiles said. "Remember, you're the guy that everyone wants, you're the hot girl."

"I'm the hot girl?"

"You're the hottest girl!"

"What?" Isaac asked looking back and forward between his friends.

"I'm the hot girl."

"Yes you are!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Son of a bitch!" Came from Coach's office as Stiles and Scott sat innocently in the classroom. The cry actually followed a large crash indicating that Stiles' plan had worked perfectly. The class started to chuckle as Coach Finnstock entered the room rubbing his right leg.

"Mischief Night, Devil's Night," he mocked. "I don't care what you call it, you little punks are evil."

This of course enticed more laughter from the students. Stiles welled with pride even more so. This was by far his best prank yet.

"You think it's funny every Halloween my house gets egged?" Finnstock asked the class. "A man's house is supposed to be his castle. Mine is a freaking omelette. Oh this," he said picking up another gift box. "We're going to do this again."

Scott glanced at Stiles as if to ask if this was another prank. Stiles shrugged his shoulders, not recognising the box.

"I don't think so," Coach said dropping the box and crashing his foot into it with a crack. The man's eyes grew wide as he looked down. It was revealed to be a personalised mug made for the man. An actual gift. " _'Love Greenberg.'_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for another chapter!
> 
> So, you guys may notice that I'm putting hints of the Nogitsune's possession of Stiles having some affect. Especially with the pulls towards Kira.  
> We are getting very close to where I no longer will be using mostly canon conversation and things will be focusing on Stiles' thoughts and feelings during possession.   
> I promise next chapter will be FILLED with Sterek, because I'm just that nice.  
> But it also means next chapter is going to be long as god only knows, because there are some critical canon parts coming up. I just feel I owe you guys some Sterek, maybe some fluff. Should I do fluff? I should probably do fluff.
> 
> This chapters Fic recommendations:
> 
> The Searching Ceremonies series  
> Moonwalkers


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